I’ve been told that the only thing to fear is Fear itself.
I’ve never heard of anything so stupid.
In a world where every second could be your last, where every breath you take could be the one that kills you, Fear itself is the last thing that should be on your mind.
Hell, being afraid of the dark is more valid in a world like ours.
A world where emptiness reigns, darkness swallows everything, and all we have to call our own are our loved ones.
There is a hell of a lot more to be afraid of than being afraid of Fear.
I’ve laughed in the face of Fear, made jokes at it.
I’ve stormed into Fear’s home and made it my castle.
And while I can boast about these things there’s something that always gets me.
I’m alone.
Unloved.
Second son to both of my parents, I could’ve sworn I was supposed to be the favorite.
I crave the spotlight I’ve never gotten.
I practically swim in an ocean of my own tears, drowning in the saltiness.
I’m alone; I surround myself with friends and family who have a **** to give to me.
Who tell me they care and shower me with their make-shift happiness.
Some of them made me believe that they made the sun for me.
That they make it shine day after day just so I can look Fear in the eye and tell him off.
And while I do this there’s one thing I’m afraid of.
While I have all these friends there’s one thing I can’t stand happening.
I don’t want to ever wake up one day and see that the sun isn’t shining.
That Fear is a bigger man than he lets on.
That he knows what makes me die slowly inside.
I’ve been told that the only thing to fear is Fear himself.
That’s *******, cause I’m more afraid of being alone.